


Blood Gulch High School

by Onlymostydead



Series: Fictober 2019 [7]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Crushes, Foster Care, Friendly banter, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecurity, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Picking at Fingers, Trans Dick Simmons, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 16:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20969351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymostydead/pseuds/Onlymostydead
Summary: Simmons is sure that High School is going to be the death of him. Between being out as a boy at school, trying to stay safe at home, and the new kid who just moved here that he's definately got a crush on... He's completely, utterly, entirely hopeless.





	Blood Gulch High School

**Author's Note:**

> Fictober day 9! Almost a third of the way there! 
> 
> Also, even though the happy ending tag is there, not everything is entirely resolved! They are happy, but don't think I'm thinking they're both in good situations.

School sucked.

No, that was a lie. Simmons liked school a lot, actually... In theory. He liked the idea of knowledge, and going somewhere to receive it, possibly with classmates who also liked receiving knowledge. There. That sounded more like it.

Or, more nerdy. Take your pick. Either way, Blood Gulch High School was pretty much destined to be the death of him. Sure, it was only the first week of freshman year, but things were already borderline shit.

Point one: the kids here were really mean. Like, the only reason he had gotten through so far as keeping his head down and trying to avoid all drama at all costs. People would leave trash and notes in his locker, shove him around, the general shit carrying over from last year... And the year before that... And so on and so forth. Keeping his head down down didn't exactly work. Unfortunately, he tended to generate drama. Especially considering...

Point two: most of the people he had classes with went to the same middle school as him, which meant they had already known him as a girl. 

Known him before he transitioned? Started transitioning? Fuck, he didn't even know how other trans people would say it. The only stuff he knew about the LGBT community came from the Internet in the school library, and that was difficult to use without being seen. He didn't dare look up that kind of thing at home. His dad already said things like that to him, or accused him of being a lesbian, and said all sorts of homophobic bullshit. He didn't need more.

He didn't need to know how much worse it could get.

The fact of the matter was though, most of them had known him with long hair, under a feminine name, wearing very, uh, different clothes than he was now. Back when his entire wardrobe didn't consist of the same hoodies, sweats, and other 'gender neutral' clothing. Even being out, and presenting how he wanted to, and having a preferred name wouldn't change how they viewed him. 

And for three: the education wasn't even good. It was rural Nebraska for fuck's sake, what did he expect? 

So all in all: it sucked. Royally. 

Which is why Simmons found himself in the back of the theater eating his lunch, hiding from, well...

"Oh, shit! I didn't see you there."

Simmons yelped, spinning around in his seat to face the voice. Immediately, he blushed bright red, his heart skipping a beat.

For one, he had never seen this guy at school before, which was always a good sign because it meant a first impression. No preconceived notions about who he was... Unless he had friends who knew him before, but that was a different matter entirely.

For two, he was cute. Wavy dark brown hair flopped down into his deep, chocolaty eyes in a way that didn't look entirely intentional, but was still adorable. His skin was deeply tanned, with a scattering of little moles here and there. He was heavyset, probably not very tall, and wearing a bright, traffic cone orange hoodie.

"My bad, didn't realize anyone else was in here." The kid said, sitting down a few chairs over from him. "And sorry for scaring you, I guess."

Simmons raised an eyebrow. "You guess?"

"Hey, you scared me too." He pointed out. "Don't see you apologizing."

"I'm... sorry for scaring you?"

"Apology accepted. Now who the fuck are you?"

"I'm, uh, Simmons. Richard. Simmons." He held out an awkward hand. "And you are?"

"Dexter Grif." He fist-bumped the handshake. "And dude, that's kind of an awful name."

Of all of the things he had heard about his name - that it was this name, that he shouldn't have a boys name, all of that - that was was new.

Simmons turned bright red; he could feel it. "No, it isn't."

"Yeah, it kinda is. What do you go by? Richard? Dick?"

Oh, he hadn't even thought about that. The trans guy who goes by Dick? That would be truly terrible.

"I'll tell you what-" He took his sandwich out of its paper bag and pointed it at Simmons. "-I'll do you a favor, and just call you Simmons."

"That's hardly a favor... Grif."

Grif looked confused for a second, then grinned. "You know what, that was almost funny."

Simmons frowned. "Almost?"

"Yeah." He took a bit of his sandwich. "Almost."

"Yeah, well... You're almost nice to talk to."

Grif nodded. "I think I can live with that."

"Of course you can."

"You know-" He started, talking with his mouth full. "I'm not keeping you from eating."

"Oh, yeah." Simmons opened his tin of leftovers. "So, what grade are you in?"

"Human test subject."

"So... Freshman?" He guessed.

"Yeah." Grif nodded, taking another bite. "Freshman."

"Same. Figures why I haven't seen you around before."

"Yeah, I just moved here." He added. "So I'm really not from around here."

Simmons raised an eyebrow. "Where are you from, then?"

"Hawaii..." Grif trailed off. "And I'd rather not talk about it, since I just got a serious downgrade to fucking Nebraska."

"Yeah, no kidding." 

"Can't get much worse than this." He rolled his eyes. "Only way it could get worse is if people knew I was gay... Or something like that."

Simmons swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. "Yeah, people are pretty awful about that here, huh?"

"Pretty much. Wanna go eat outside at least, while it's nice out?"

"I'm pretty sure that's..."

"Not allowed?" Grif shrugged. "You assume the school cares. And that I care."

"And you assume I don't." Simmons pointed out.

"Suit yourself." He grabbed his sandwich bag, slowly standing up, and...

"Fine, I'll go with you. But I'm blaming you if we get in trouble."

***

"Hey, Grif, you ever wonder why we're here?" Simmons asked, tossing pieces of popcorn across the theater, trying to get them into his mouth.

So far, the score wasn't good.

"What do you mean?" Grif leaned up to try to catch the kernel, but it bounced off of his nose. "Like, some metaphysical shit? Or what did we do to piss of a higher power so that we ended up in fucking Blood Gulch, Nebraska?"

"I'd like to know the answer to both, but neither. Why aren't you in the cafeteria for lunch?"

He shrugged. "I don't know anyone, no one knows me, it'd be weird if I sat next to people, so I sit alone. Solutions. You?"

Simmons tossed another piece of popcorn, but it was way off. "I mean, anxiety, I guess. Everything bad happens in the cafeteria, right? In all the movies?"

"You can't trust movies about high school, Dick."

Every time he called him his name, Simmons's heart soared. Even though, really, it felt about the same when he called him Simmons, too. Or, just, when he was around him. 

This crush was starting to get the better of him. He knew it, but that didn't mean he could help it. It wasn't like he was some robot who could regulate emotions.

Though that would be cool.

"I know that, but... Still. The opportunities for embarrassment to safety ratio goes way beyond what I'm comfortable with." He shuddered. "I mean, I went to middle school with some of those people. They're mean."

"People care less in high school though, I think." Grif shrugged, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn.

Simmons let him. "Yeah... That's fair. But it's been too long since anything really mean has happened, and I'm getting worried that means something bad is coming."

"Pfft, really?" He laughed. "Simmons, I think you need to calm down for a bit, maybe."

"Yeah... Probably. Probably."

"Wanna go sneak into the teachers lounge?"

Simmons grinned. "Don't I always?"

"Yeah, but you complain the whole time." Grif pointed out."

He blushed. "Hey!"

"C'mon then, let's go."

***

Getting caught was their first mistake.

Which, getting caught sneaking into the teachers lounge wasn't really that big of a deal. At least, in Blood Gulch it wasn't. Sure, they got scolded by Vice Principal Vic, but it was little more than a slap on the wrist. A first time offense for a good student and a transfer.

And for Grif? That was where that ended. But Simmons knew that beyond their awkward little talking to, an email, a phone call, something got sent home to his parents. 

And letting that happen? That was his second mistake.

***

"Dude, you look awful. What happened?"

Simmons shrugged. "Just tired. "Up late studying for literature last night."

"Oh, shit, is that quiz today?" Grif winced. 

"Yeah, idiot."

"Well, guess who's definitely going to need a good grade on the mid-term." He slumped deeper into his seat. "That class is fucking bullshit."

"Tell me about it." Simmons rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, it's so- wait." Grif stopped. "Are you wearing makeup?"

Instantly, he was bright red. 

"No." He lied.

"Yeah, you are, don't lie to me." 

Simmons turned his face away. "Well, so what? I can wear makeup if I want to, can't I?"

"Yeah, but..." Grif blinked. "Didn't take you for that type."

"Does there have to be a type?"

"I mean, you normally think of guys like Donut. Or at least guys like Tucker, who give a shit about their appearance." He explained. "But you? You wear baggy hoodies, joggers, shit like that. All the time. Like me."

Simmons rolled his eyes. "I don't see why you care so much, Grif. It's just a little concealer because I looked tired."

"I care because I'm pretty sure you're hurt, Dick. And I want to know why you're hiding it."

The theater went dead silent.

He had two choices. He could tell Grif the truth, and risk what little stability he had, but make him happy, and be honest, and possibly not get hurt, or...

Or lie about it, and protect his parents. Risk his friendship with Grif, and continue being somewhat stable, but hurting.

Tears threatened Simmons's eyes, but he blinked them back down. "I'm fine, Grif. I don't know what you're talking about."

"I- you're not- I don't see how you can-" 

And, sure enough, Grif stood up and left.

***

He knew something bad was coming.

He knew it. There had never been this long of a stretch of time without something really bad happening: someone stealing his books, the time he got beaten so bad he got a concussion, when the girls in his P. E. class cut his hair... Well, that one was a good thing, in a way, but that didn't mean his dad didn't punish him for it. That didn't mean it wasn't terrifying while it was happening, like he wondered if they would use those scissors to hurt him.  
So why hadn't anything happened so far? Simmons had no idea. In middle school he felt like their favorite punching bag, and now all of a sudden it just... Stopped? Fat chance. He didn't trust that one bit.

So he knew something bad was coming. He knew it.   
He just didn't know when.

And that was the terrifying part. Having no idea who, or how, or anything at all really about it. Because he knew something was coming, but what? Homecoming was coming up, would someone pretend to ask him out with a big sign with his deadname on it, like they did for the formal last year, and then laugh at him afterwards? Or would they just corner him and hurt him, laugh at how he flinched?  
Because one thing as for sure: Simmons knew he made an easy target. He always had, and he probably always would.

When it did happen, though, it was after gym class. 

Gym was the worst. The thing Simmons liked about school was the education. He didn't mind physical activity; in fact, most days he worked out on his own. But being subject to a teacher telling him what to do along with all of his classmates, in dysphoric (that was the right word, right?) clothes, playing games that didn't actually test how strong or fit you were? 

Terrible. 

Especially since he didn't have gym clothes that would make him feel any better, and this happened to be laundry day, so it was, in fact, the absolute worst of the worst. He was wearing a pair of tight black leggings and a dark green shirt that proudly declared that he was a member of the junior high girls soccer team.  
The worst.

They had to have seen that. His classmates had to have seen that and immediately jumped on the opportunity because, of course, when gym was over...  
"Where are my clothes?"  
His locker, which he left them in, still had his things in it... Just not his clothing. They weren't in the trash, they weren't on the lockers, they weren't anywhere that he could find, and he was running low on time now...

"I mean, you're still in dress code." A girl pointed out unhelpfully was a huge smile before leaving the locker room.  
He would have to wear this for the rest of the day. All day, because gym was second period. He was stuck like this. In his junior high girls soccer shirt and leggings that left nothing of his legs to the imagination. Every feminine curve. Everything.  
Tears began to well up in Simmons's eyes, but he tried to blink them down. He just looked more feminine when he cried, and that would just make it worse, and...  
When he was just wearing a tee shirt, his chest was noticeable, too. If anyone didn't know before, they sure would now.  
If Grif didn't know before, he would now.

A tear rolled down his cheek, despite his best efforts. Simmons wiped it away, but it was just replaced by another one, and another, until tears were just streaming down his face. Until it was no use.

He really needed to clean up and get to his next period, but... Maybe looking for his clothes would give him an excuse to be late. Because right now, he just needed to cry.  
***

He got in trouble for being tardy.

***  
"Hey, I didn't know you played soccer."  
Classmates snickering, people bumping into him in the halls, girls in his grade complimenting his legs because:

"You could actually be cute if you didn't dress like such a dyke all the time."  
And they al laughed and walked away, knowing full well what they said was...  
Simmons was too tired to think about it. He just was. Right now, he just needed to get to fourth period, and-

"Simmons?"  
Grif's voice behind him startled Simmons so bad that he slammed his locker shut, spinning around to face him with eyes wide open. "Yeah?"  
"What the fuck happened?"

He swallowed.  
"What do you care?"  
They hadn't talked in a couple days; not since he lied about his dad, about the black eye he got for getting in trouble at school. He just hadn't gone to the theater. 

"I'm your friend, that's what I care." He started to pull off his normal bright orange hoodie. "Here, put this on."

Simmons blinked. "What?"

"Better than what you're in, right? Did those assholes steal your clothes?"

He nodded. "Yeah, after gym this morning."  
Grif frowned, handing over the hoodie. "Well, I have to get to class, but... See you in the theater?"

"...yeah. See you, Grif."

***

Grif scratched the back of his neck. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

"No." Simmons blurted as quickly as he could. "No, I don't want to... Fuck, no I don't want to talk about it. I'd rather repeatedly shoot myself in the foot."

"Alright then. Not talking about it. Right now, at least." He paused. "You know, I can answer one of the reasons why I'm here, at least."

"And why's that, Grif?"

"Because no one wants me." Grif stated simply, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm a foster kid; that's actually why I moved here. Not because my family moved or anything. I've bounced around homes all the way from Hawaii, to here."

"Jeez, that's awful." Simmons reached a hand over and set it on his shoulder, trying his best to be comforting.

Grif sighed. "I mostly just miss my sister."

They were both silent, for a bit. He didn't know what to say, and Grif didn't seem like he was going to say anything else about that.

"Real question is," Simmons finally started. "What the hell did we do to deserve being here?"

"Fuck if I know, dude." He snorted. "Maybe whatever's up above doesn't like gay people after all."

"Wait. You're gay!?"

"Yeah?" Grif froze. "You didn't know I was gay?"

"No!"

"What?" Both his eyebrows were raised in shock, mouth wide open. "Seriously?"

"I had no idea." Simmons took a breath, trying to calm down a bit. "I mean, you know that I'm gay... And you definitely know that I'm trans..."

"Yeah." Grif shrugged. "So?"

"I don't know, it's just a big deal here, that's all." He crossed his arms, fingers gripping onto Grif's hoodie. "We might be the only ones here."

"Yeah... About that?"

"What?"

"I might've lied to you."

Simmons froze in place. What did that mean? He lied about what? Being gay? Was this all just part of the joke? Was he somehow just humiliating him too?

"...about why I came to the library. To eat?" Grif finished, picking at the skin around his fingers.

He relaxed, but only a little bit. That could still go very, very wrong.

"I heard that you were gay, and-"

"Wait, wait." Simmons blinked hard, trying to clear his head. "You came to the theater, to be friends with me, because you knew I was gay?"

"...pretty much, yeah."

"Well, that's... Interesting."

"Yeah." Grif nodded. "At first, at least."

"What do you mean?" Simmons's body stiffened. "At first?"

"I mean, I just wanted to be your friend at first, but..." He swallowed. "I kinda caught feelings."

He was messing with him. He was definitely just messing with him, like everyone else.

"Bullshit."

"W-Why would I lie about something like that, Simmons?" Grif stammered, still picking at his hands, harsher than before. "If people found out they would bully both of us. You're my only friend in this hellhole, and I don't want to fuck things up between us."

Simmons felt like he couldn't breathe. "You mean you really..?"

He nodded.

And he fainted, just like that.

***

Simmons was still bright red as they walked away from the nurses office. 

"How was I supposed to know that you didn't have like, low blood sugar or something?" Grif pointed out. "You could've been dying. I could've saved your life."

"Yeah, but I just fainted."

"And?"

"And?" He rolled his eyes. "I still can't believe you carried me to the nurse."

"Yeah, me neither." Grif agreed. "Dude, you're deceptively heavy."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you lazy ass."

"But..." He smirked. "I take that to mean a yes?"

"A yes for what?" Simmons tipped his head to the side. "I don't think you ever actually asked me anything."

"Fine. Want to sneak into the movie theater this Friday? As a date?" Grif grinned.

"Absolutely."

"And you better not complain the whole time."

"You know I will."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find mein tumblr at Supertinywords!
> 
> Requests are open!
> 
> Comments are love <3


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